


You Can't Always Get What You Want (Or Can You?)

by optomisticgirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Prince "Charming" James Friendship, Co-workers, F/M, Humor, Medical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 22:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8507590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/optomisticgirl/pseuds/optomisticgirl
Summary: He's waited years for this moment. He was finally going to get revenge on the man who took everything away from him - the only thing standing in his way is a burn patient, a fellow he's starting to fall in love with, and a morally compassed best-friend. [CS House AU]





	1. Part 1

There weren't many people in Doctor Killian Jones' life that he could rely on - his father had abandoned him and his older brother when he was four, Liam had left him through death, his first love had left him to go back to her criminally insane husband - hell, he couldn't even rely on his own damn hand to stay attached to his arm. But the one person he knew would always be there was David Nolan. Through bar fights, irritating patients, annoying (yet sometimes hot in the case of Emma Swan) fellows, and Belle's vomit inducing Christmas parties David was there. He was Killian's best friend, the one person who had stuck with him through the loss of his hand and every rum-induced coma he had put himself in since the accident.

Which was exactly why he had to terrorize the oncologist.

Adjusting his feet on the patient's bed, Killian took another bite of his roast beef sandwich. This was by far his most ingenious prank yet. He had stumbled across something while setting up his previous prank - it wasn't his fault Dave had left the tape lying around in a double locked drawer in his office - and upon viewing it had known exactly what to do with it. It was a copy of a student film David had obviously done in college, probably in the early days of his and Mary Margaret's marriage when money was tight, and was filled with his best friend acting the part of a cheesy modern day Prince Charming in a remake of the Snow White tale.

It was an opportunity the Head of Diagnostic Medicine couldn't pass up.

Tossing his half eaten sandwich into the tray resting on the bed, he reached for his drink that was currently being held in the crook of the unconscious patient's arm. It had only taken him a few days on the computer and the printing services of the local Walgreens to bring his prank to life - 27" by 40" movie size posters of his best friend in various dramatic poses and dressed in a red doublet with a ridiculous cape. He had spent the morning pasting them in David's office and every room in the clinic (as well as a few patient rooms - they were a work of art, after all) and was now sitting back and waiting for David to find them. It didn't hurt that the timing of his latest prank would keep his morally compassed best-friend out of his hair while he dealt with an old score-

Hearing the door open Killian looked up to see the man of the hour himself walk in, briefly pause as he took in the scene in front him, and then roll his eyes.

"The man is in a coma, Killian."

Looking toward the patient Killian shrugged. "He didn't seem to mind."

"You're getting crumbs all over him!" David stage-whispered, moving toward his best friend.

"Why are you whispering?" Killian asked as David gathered the sandwich container and bag of chips off the patient. "He's in a coma, he can't hear you."

"Doesn't matter," David muttered, tossing the container in the trash can. Turning toward him the oncologist put his hands on his hips. "Actually, it does. Some people believe they can still hear."

"Then they need to put radios in the rooms, not tvs." Finishing his drink Killian sat the empty cup back in the crook of the patient's arm, ignoring David's huff. "What brings you to my sanctuary anyway?"

"Belle's looking for you," David answered, sitting in the empty chair on the other side of the bed.

"Why do you think I'm having lunch with Sleeping Beauty?"

David pinned his best friend with a hard look. "Something about her book collection and how she was going to take your other hand?"

Killian grinned. "I may have broken into her office last night and rearranged her books from Z-A."

"Such maturity," David mumbled. "Do you ever do any work around here?"

"Occasionally. Although, my fellows do most of the work nowadays, I must confess."

"Yes, your fellows," David agreed, drumming a finger on his lips. "How are things with Miss Swan?"

Avoiding the knowing gaze of his best friend Killian adjusted the brace on his left arm under his dress shirt, his mind wandering to the blonde doctor in question. Emma Swan had been one of his fellows for a year now and he could still remember the day she had literally barged into his life. He had been in the middle of conducting an interview for the last fellowship position, an act Belle had forced on him, when she had marched into his office and slammed her resume down on his desk, all flowing blonde hair and fiery personality as she demanded to know why he hadn't called her in for an interview. Truth be told he had taken one look at her resume in the earlier stages of the hiring process and deemed her too inexperienced for the job, but having the flesh and blood woman in front of him had made him second guess his first impression. She was beautiful, there was no denying that, but it wasn't her looks or the fact she was a highly skilled immunologist that had captivated him - although they certainly didn't hurt - no, it was the look in her eye. The look of a lost girl, of a soul who had endured countless loss and who had been broken until only a shell of her former self remained.

She had immediately intrigued him, his sense of a challenge tingling and he had hired her on the spot without an interview.

The past year had been spent trying to figure the elusive creature that was Emma Swan out. She was a contradiction, open and comforting with the patients but guarded and cold when it came to herself. In the beginning it had been simply to slake his thirst for a challenge, wanting to know what made her tick so he could eventually use it against her. But ever since the night of Belle's Christmas party four months ago when he had found her curled on the floor of an empty patient room crying, it had turned into something different. It wasn't about the challenge anymore but about getting to _know_ her, to breakdown those mile high walls around her simply to see what was behind them.

It was a fact David had apparently picked up on, much to his dismay.

Feigning disinterest he replied, "The normal - she's trying to mother every patient and annoying me to no end about eternal hope for mankind." When no response came from the other side of the room he chanced a glance at his best friend, noting the contemplating look on the older man's face.

"She doesn't annoy you as much as you pretend she does. I'd almost chance to say you like her, Jones."

The statement hitting a little too close to home, Killian immediately fell back on old habits to change the subject. "I'd like to bend her over my desk, yes."

He couldn't help but smile at the scowl on David's face. From the moment the oncologist had met his only female fellow there had been a strange connection between them, David almost taking on the role of protective father and it gave Killian countless hours of enjoyment bringing that side of David out. The fact was if it weren't for David's odd fatherly affection for the blonde immunologist Killian would have slept with her long ago. She was a gorgeous woman and he hadn't exactly averted his eyes whenever a low top or short skirt came into his line of sight.

He was a doctor, not a saint.

"It's more than that and you know it," David retorted, shuddering as if the mental image of his best friend and the young fellow was revolting. "She's good for you, Killian."

It was Killian's turn to scowl. "What in the bloody hell does _that_ mean?"

David shrugged. "Over the last few months you've been less… difficult. Belle has noticed it too, even remarked that you've taken on cases with almost no bickering." Tilting his head in thought the oncologist continued, "From her first day here you've been different but something happened recently that's completely changed how the two of you interact. You still try to goad her at every turn but it's not with your normal malice anymore. It's… it's almost _lovingly_ done."

Before Killian could respond - not that he had a way to respond to that - the door to the patient's room opened again and it took Killian a few seconds to realise Emma herself was stood there.

"What is it, Swan? Can't you tell we're in the middle of a very important discussion about the ramifications of Pluto no longer being a planet?"

Ignoring his sarcasm the blonde immunologist walked toward him and tossed a file into his lap.

"We have a case."

"I'm sorry, I must have missed the day when I stepped down as head of the department and you took over." Despite his sharp remark he maneuvered the file so he could open it with his good hand. Quickly scanning the contents, he closed and tossed the file onto the coma patient next to him. "The burn unit can handle it."

Once again completely ignoring him Emma reached over his propped legs for the file - giving Killian an excellent view of her ass in those dress pants - before dropping the file back into his lap.

"If they could handle it they wouldn't have asked for you. Although it is telling they brought the file to me instead of you."

"That's because they know you are really my secretary," he quipped, grinning at the murderous look that crossed her beautiful face. Feeling the piercing gaze of his best friend Killian flipped the file back open and was about to suggest Belle doubling his salary if he was going to do the burn unit's job as well when something caught his eye.

"Kid's heart race is a mess," he mumbled, uncrossing his legs and moving them from the patient's bed to the floor.

"Hence why they asked for you," Emma responded, crossing her arms.

"Wouldn't tachycardia be explained by the burn?" David asked.

"I'm assuming the burn unit doctors aren't complete morons and knew that," Killian replied as he stood. Handing the file back to Emma he said, "Gather the thief of Sherwood and the sorcerer for a differential diagnosis."

"Do you even know your fellow's names?"

"Yes," Killian said, turning to look at his friend, "But when you name your kids Robin Loxley and Merlin Knight _and_ they are both British, you are kind of expecting people to make fun of them."

Emma rolled her eyes. "So what's mine then, Swan Princess?"

Killian grinned lecherously at her. "I was actually thinking FILF - Fellow I'd Like to Fuck."

Green eyes flashing, the blonde turned and muttering about diagnosticians who needed a good punching, quickly left the room. As the door closed with a loud bang Killian looked to David and winked.

"Oh yes, I think she likes me."

* * *

She didn't care if he had tenure and was the best diagnostician in the world, she was going to kill him - but not before chopping his other hand off.

Taking a deep breath and trying to purge her mind of murderous thoughts towards a certain blue eyed doctor, Belle picked up a book from the pile of books on her office floor and glancing at its cover, sat it in a separate pile. She had spent the last two hours alphabetizing her book collection from Killian's little stunt and she still wasn't even halfway done. Her office looked like a library had exploded in it with various stacks of large, leather bound books piled on her desk, end tables, couches, and even the windowsill. How the man had completely reorganized her vast collection in a few hours by himself and with one hand she would never know.

She was most definitely not impressed. Okay, she was a little, but she was still going to murder him.

As she reached for a first edition _Lougraime's Anatomy_ she heard the door to her office open. Glancing up Belle saw one of the clinic nurses, Ruby, stick her head in.

"We need an audio visual set up for the lecture hall," the brunette announced with a smile.

Sitting the book down in the designated _L_ pile on the end table Belle asked, "What for?"

"For the lecture."

Belle blinked at the nurse in confusion. "What lecture?"

"Dr. Gold's lecture." Ruby reached into her scrub pocket for a folded piece of paper. "He's a neurologist. The memo you sent out said he'd be giving a lecture on some new migraine prevention medicine this afternoon."

Pausing as she reached for another book Belle narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Can I see that memo?"

Walking into the office Ruby handed the paper to her. Opening it Belle scanned the contents of the memo detailing this Dr. Gold's lecture time and the list of staff that was required to attend, her eyes falling on her signature at the bottom. Only it wasn't her handwriting - only one person in the entire hospital wrote in that fancy style.

"I'm going to kill him."

Ruby smirked knowingly. "Dr. Jones?"

"Yeah," Belle replied as she stood, moving around the piles of books. "Ignore the code blue that's going to be called from his office. It's just going to be a doctor being choked to death by a former librarian."

* * *

"Oh yes!"

Watching the EEG machine of the comatose patient light up like a Christmas tree, Killian grinned widely. _Gotcha, Crocodile!_ Humming to himself in delight Killian picked up the patient's chart to document the new medication that had been administered, carefully balancing the clipboard on his maimed arm. He had been waiting for this moment for years, quietly biding his time for the Crocodile to make a mistake and he finally had. Revenge was going to be swift and glorious.

Hearing the door to the patient's room open, he didn't have to look up from his charting to know Belle had finally found him, the _click-click_ of her impossibly high heels announcing her presence. Really he was shocked it had taken her this long to track him down.

"Did you issue this memo?"

Ignoring the irritated question from his boss he sat the patient's chart back down. "Look at that."

"The patient that has been in a coma for two years and counting is still in one, congratulations" Belle observed, thrusting the memo into Killian's hand. "This is not my signature. I don't know anything about this Doctor Gold and I'm suppose to introduce him? Make nice over-" She paused in her tirade, eyes glued to the EEG machine. "The coma patient has a migraine?"

"Oh, no," Killian responded, turning to smile at the petite brunette. "I gave him medication to prevent a migraine."

Belle shook her head, pointing toward the machine flashing a multitude of red lights now. "That's a migraine, Jones. Increased flow velocity in his cerebral arteries…"

"Well, I did subsequently give him nitroglycerine which could possibly-"

Belle turned to stare at him. "You induced a _migraine headache_ in a coma patient?!"

"I gave him a little headache," Killian corrected, emphasizing his point with a finger, "Similar to the one you're giving me now, actually."

Belled rolled her eyes. "Have you even read an ethical guideline?"

Scoffing and raising an eyebrow he responded, "Well if you are to try out a new migraine prevention medication on someone who can actually feel pain-"

"Wait." Belle held up her hand, blue eyes narrowing as she stared at the Englishman. "Does this have anything to do with Doctor Gold and the fact he's releasing a new migraine prevention medication?"

"Of course not," Killian replied quickly, perhaps too quickly if the knowing look in Belle's eyes was any indication. "I'm just doing my due diligence as a doctor."

"Yes, because you are suddenly Doctor of the Year and care if a migraine prevention medication works."

As Killian went to respond with a witty remark about how he, in fact, did care if medications worked considering 90% of his job relied on medication working properly, his pager went off. Handing the memo he had yet to glance at back to Belle he looked at his pager.

"Oops, got to pop out, love."

"Killian…"

"Really, Belle," he mockingly admonished as he moved to leave the room, "You complain when I don't do any work and then you complain when I do."

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know, I thought I might do a little light doctoring this afternoon," he responded with a sarcastic smile, quickly exiting the room before the brunette could ask him any more questions.

* * *

None of this made sense.

Emma stared at the whiteboard, her eyes roaming back and forth from _abnormal heart rate_ to _seizure_. There was no telling if the two symptoms were related to the 40% body burns the kid had received or if he had experienced either of them prior to his accident. They couldn't just ask him because of the medically induced coma the burn unit had him under and even if he survived infection from the burns, both symptoms could be the beginning of a much larger problem if they didn't catch it in time. Add all that to the fact she was sure Jones was going to have a sarcastic comment about how the last procedure ended-

"I know you found my nickname for you repulsive Swan but did you really have to go and electrocute my patient in retaliation?"

\- And there it was.

Glaring at Jones as he walked past the table and straight into his office - she only let her eyes wander down to his jean-clad ass briefly (she was only human, after all) - she briefly wondered why on Earth she put up with him.

In the year she had been working for him she had been subjected to every innuendo under the sun (and he was coming up with new ones daily), snide remarks on how she handled their patients, and more than once had been put in physical danger. And yet she was still here, sparring with him and putting up with his lewd remarks that she would have punched any other man for making. She could tell herself it was the pay (ha!) or the experience she had gained from working under one of the best diagnosticians in the world, but the truth was he had somehow endeared himself to her.

It hadn't been like that in the beginning - no, in the beginning he had been obnoxious and had driven her to almost quit (she still had the sixteen letters of resignation on her computer, each one listing a different reason why he had driven her to resign), but ever since Belle's Christmas party his behavior toward her had changed. It had been subtle at first - him not cracking a sexual joke when a male patient grabbed her ass, genuinely listening and agreeing with her in a non sarcastic way when it came to a particularly hard diagnosis - but when he started surprising her with hot cocoa some mornings she had really begun to notice the change in how he interacted with her. The innuendos were still there, like his sexist nickname for her this morning, but they were few and far between nowadays and with less malice.

And if she was being honest with herself, she had put up with every sexual remark and danger to her life long before his behavior toward her had changed because she had seen something in him from the start. Beyond the devastatingly good looks and sharp wit lay a man who had been scarred many times over, and not in the physical sense. It was something that called to her own broken soul, a kindred spirit who had seen the worst of what the world had to offer and was just as screwed up as she was.

It was comforting in a way to know she wasn't the only one walking around hiding her scars, and was the driving reason she had never emailed a single one of those resignation letters - although the temptation had been great.

"He had a seizure," Merlin pointed out, breaking Emma from her internal thoughts. Shaking her head slightly she got up to follow her co workers into Jones' office where the diagnostician was rummaging through his book case.

"So if we go with the theory that Swan didn't electrocute him-" Emma had to bite her cheek to keep from throwing something at his dark head as he moved from the bookcase to his desk drawer, "What does the seizure tell us?"

"What on Earth are you looking for?" Emma asked as he opened drawer after drawer.

"Same as you - love, acceptance - although at the moment I'm looking for my bloody rum."

"Fourth book from the bottom, the green lupus book."

Jones paused in searching through his top desk drawer and looked up at her, a dark eyebrow raised. "How do you know where I keep my secret stash of rum, Swan?"

Emma rolled her eyes. _Really._ "You like pirates. Of course you have a couple of hollowed out books with bottles of rum in them like some kind of pirate's treasure."

Jones pursed his lips as he stared at her. "That kind of observation requires a great attention to detail," he said, a cocky grin spreading across his face. "I knew you couldn't resist my good looks, love."

"You're an alcoholic, Jones - doesn't take a genius to know you'd have a secret stash in your office."

Robin sighed from his chair in front of Jones's desk. "Are we going to listen to you two banter back and forth for an hour or are we going to try to find out why the kid seized?"

"Could be epilepsy or seizure disorder?" Merlin suggested as Jones moved back to his bookcase.

"Not with the tachycardia," Emma replied, internally rolling her eyes again as she watched Jones locate the lupus book, cradle it on his bad arm and pull the small bottle of rum out with a large grin. "It could be a virus in his brain."

Merlin side eyed her. "Your specificity is impressive. Adrenoleukodystrophy."

Tilting his head in thought and ignoring the smacking sound of his boss's lips as the diagnostician took a large swing of alcohol Robin said, "Could be MS, seizures could be caused by plaques and lesions on the brain."

Placing the bottle back and re shelving the book Jones said, "Well let's find out which, get an MRI."

"No nuclear imaging," Robin pointed out, earning him a scowl from his boss. "He wouldn't survive the move to radiology so MRI and CT scan are both out."

Jones sighed as he ran a hand through his dark locks, completely disshelving them to a point that made Emma wonder if that was what he looked like after a good round of sex before quickly slapping herself internally for the thought.

"Ok," the diagnostician replied as he shuffled through the papers on his desk, "A lumbar puncture will tell us if his proteins are elevated and at least we can exclude MS."

"Can't do a lumbar puncture either," Merlin cut in, causing Jones to mutter 'bloody hell' under his breath.

"Don't tell me, no skin on his spine."

"We'd be inserting a needle into an area that's teeming with bacteria," Merlin replied. "If he doesn't have a brain infection already, we'd give him one for sure."

Emma shrugged. "There's no other way to look at a brain."

"Transcranial doppler sonography."

"She said brain, not pregnant woman's uterus," Merlin dead panned, "They do sound alike though."

Jones glared at him as he picked up a file from his disaster of a desk. "So sorry the rest of us can't use our sorcerer magic to look at a brain, oh great Merlin."

Robin shook his head. "You're not going to get a diagnosis of MS from a sonogram!"

Jones sighed as he made his way toward his office door. "Not definitively but patients with MS have more reactive neurons in their occipital cortex." Pausing when he reached the doorway he turned back toward them, blue eyes moving between each of them. "No rebuttal to that? Good, I've somewhere to be."

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" Emma asked, eyes narrowed at him. The man never rushed off to do anything unless it was to drink rum or spend half the day at a strip club.

"I've a lecture to attend Swan!" he called back as he walked out of his office, leaving his three fellows looking after him with baffled expressions.

* * *

Sitting in the lecture hall, Killian was reminded of why he never attended these things.

To begin with they were down right boring with over inflated doctors droning on and on about some new miracle medicine or how a specific procedure had saved lives. He wasn't against saving lives - he was a doctor, after all - but his philosophy was you learned from action in the field, not sitting in a cushioned chair while another doctor described something. The setting always reminded him of medical school when he had to sit there and listen to a lecture when all he wanted to do was get his hands dirty. He wanted to be where the action was, to _see_ what the disease was doing and put the pieces together like a puzzle until he had the answer.

The room was also stifling hot, although that possibly was because of his current wardrobe. He needed to blend in with the sea of faces around him until the last possible minute and his normal attire was very… distinctive. Not many doctors went around the hospital in jeans, t-shirt, and a vest after all. He had nicked a lab coat from the surgical lounge on his way to the lecture hall along with a pair of aviator sunglasses and his own red hat that read 'It's A Pirate's Life for Me'.

He hated attending these things - and he certainly never gave lectures, no matter how much Belle pleaded - but he was willing to make an exception to see his revenge unfold.

Killian watched as Belle fumbled her way through introducing Dr. Gold, clearly still not sure what the doctor was doing at their hospital and he felt a momentary pang of guilt for deceiving the brunette. Despite their back and forth and her constant attempts to reign in his reckless doctoring style, she was one of the few people who had stood by him over the years. The feeling quickly passed though as the side door opened and the man of the hour walked in.

Robert Gold, top Neurologist and founder of the Gold Center for Pain was every bit the crocodile Killian remembered him to be. In his early 50's, the doctor was dressed in a tailored black suit with a dark purple shirt and matching tie, looking more like a loan shark out to collect a debt than a man who studied people's brains. Which on thought, was a fairly accurate description of the ego-hungry neurologist considering what he had taken from Killian, both professionally and privately.

Killian's jaw clenched as a phantom pain shot up from his missing left hand, and he forced himself to concentrate on the impish doctor through the physical reminder of what Robert Gold had taken from him. Gold was cracking a joke about not remembering Belle's name which earned Killian a glare from the tiny brunette. He raised a dark eyebrow in answer but the amused grin that started to spread over his lips faltered as her annoyed glare flickered to a knowing look as she walked past him.

He didn't have to wait long to find out what that look had meant as he felt someone sit next to him. Turning he saw David staring at him in utter confusion as Gold began to recount his professional background.

"What in the hell are you wearing?"

"I hear doctor's tend to wear these white things to show their prominence among the lesser social classes."

David continued to stare at him. "And the sunglasses and ridiculous hat you got in Disneyworld?"

"Sudden chills and light sensitivity - inexplicable," Killian replied before glaring at his best friend through the dark glasses. "And this hat is not ridiculous, it's a national treasure that Johnny Depp touched."

"That's because it was his and you stole it from him!" David whisper-hissed.

Killian shrugged. "Semantics. What the bloody hell are you doing here anyway? Don't you have patients to coddle or an office to sit in and research ways to not let them die?"

David turned his attention to Gold. "Belle found me while I was on my rounds and told me about your little memo forgery. She figured this guy was important for some reason if you went to the trouble of getting him here _and_ are willingly attending one of these things."

Killian started to make a witty comeback but in the silence after David's response Gold took that moment to divulge his medical school background.

"I received my medical degree at Johns Hopkins University, where I studied under Pan and Cora."

David looked thoughtful. "Hmmm, he must be good. You went to Hopkins and studied under Pan and Cora."

"Shhh!" Killian whispered, looking back down at his notes. He didn't needed his morally compassed best friend to figure out-

"This helped me to win the Doyle internship at the Mayo Clinic."

"You were suppose to get the Doyle internship but didn't because-" Killian could tell the moment realization dawned on the oncologist and he chanced a glance at his best friend just as David turned to him, eyes wide. " _That_ is Robert Gold? The guy who cost you to lose your hand when he found out you were having an affair with his wife?"

"Thanks for the reminder there, Dave."

David ignored him, more pieces of the puzzle falling into place. "That's Milah's husband?"

"Aye," Killian replied tensely.

David looked between him and Gold as the neurologist moved on to his work of preventing migraines. "Why on Earth would you invite him, let alone sit through a lecture from him after everything he did to you?"

"Because he's a bad scientist who deserves to have _his_ professional life mucked with," Killian said through gritted teeth. He hadn't known David in his early medical school days, only meeting the oncologist after the accident that had caused him to lose his left hand. David knew the entire torrid story though of young love and betrayal, the real reason Killian so frequently sought the bottom of a rum bottle. The physical pain of his injury had dulled over the years but the emotional scars left behind by his first love's betrayal were still very much present for the diagnostician. However he knew his best friend, knew that David had never had a vile thought about another human being in his entire life, and was certain he was about to get a lecture on letting past grievances go.

"So you've stalked him for the past five years just for this shot to humiliate him?"

"Revenge is a dish best served cold," Killian muttered as Gold began to talk about control subjects and two-way ANOVAs. "He doesn't even know what that means."

David sighed. "You're going to interrupt him, aren't you?"

"If I have question, yes."

Side eyeing him David asked, "And what's that going to accomplish, exactly? Other than making yourself look like an ass which you have a host of degrees in."

Killian huffed in annoyance. "Why can't you just let me enjoy this, Dave? Why can't you be happy for me?"

"Because normal human beings don't plot out revenge, Killian, even if the guy deserves it," David whispered, shaking his head as he crossed his arms. "You have _got_ to find less debilitating outlets than humiliating people - especially Emma. She's going to punch you in the face one day, you know. I hear bowling is more fun than stalking."

"Can't bowl with one hand, mate," he said, wiggling the fingers of his good hand. "Although there is plenty I can do to the Lady Swan with just one-" the murderous parental glare David shot him had Killian clamping his mouth shut, once again wondering why David was so damn protective of Swan. "Besides, I'm better at this."

Before David could reply Merlin appeared in the aisle next to Killian, taking only a second to be confused by his boss's abnormal outfit before crouching down. "We found a subarachnoid bleed."

"Bleed in the head isn't causing seizures," Killian muttered, eyes glued to Gold's back as he wrote on the board.

"It could be," David interjected, "10% would damage the cerebral cortex and cause a seizure."

"Or bacterial meningitis," Merlin supplied.

David leaned forward in his seat slightly to look at Merlin. "Viral encephalitis?"

Merlin shrugged. "There's no way to tell without-"

"Will you two shut up!" Killian exclaimed, a little louder than he intended. Really, what did a guy have to do to get some peace and quiet while he enacted his revenge? He immediately saw Gold turn around, eyeing the three of them with disdain. "Do you mind not interrupting my lecture?"

"Because it's so rife with medically acclaimed parlor tricks?"

David groaned. "Oh God, no."

"Excuse me?" Gold asked, snapping the lid of the marker back on. The air in the room thickened and Killian licked his lips at the taste of revenge just within his reach.

"We'll figure out why later," he whispered to Merlin, never taking his eyes of Gold. "Fix the bleed or he dies - talk to you in a few hours."

He waited until he heard the door of the lecture hall close before clearing his throat. "I have a question, doctor."

"He knows his field better than you do," David muttered, trying to hide his face behind his hand.

Killian ignored him, his pen steadily beating out a rhythm on his notepad. "It's always been my understanding that unless you follow a daily regimen, no drug can prevent a migraine."

"That's why they call it a breakthrough, dearie," Gold sneered.

"Actually, you're the only one calling it a breakthrough."

"On the contrary," Gold responded, setting the marker back on the podium like a man who was about to deal out an assassination rather than defending his work, "The pharmaceutical company sponsoring my clinical trails also hails it as a breakthrough."

Killian scoffed. "I'm sure your wife and lawyer do too." Tilting his head he asked, "Is there anybody who doesn't stand to make a fortune from it calling it a breakthrough?"

Gold studied him for a long moment. "Who are you?"

"Just a lunatic who desperately needs a hobby," David muttered, non-to-gently knocking his leg into Killian's, a sure sign for the diagnostician to shut up already. But Killian could taste the moment he had been waiting years for, and nothing short of a crew of pirates was going to stop him now.

"And, how exactly did these studies work? You give this drug to a bunch of people and if they don't get a migraine you go 'viola, my drug works?' Just curious, one scientist to another."

Gold straightened his tie. "We had a very specific control group-"

"Yeah, in India," Killia scoffed, once again ignoring his best friend's attempts to shut him up, "Where we know the law of medicine isn't as rigid."

Slowly beginning to make his way up the steps with his cane, Gold asked, "Do I know you?"

"I know your skills at having politicians in your back pocket helps you advance your shoddy medical career."

"Touche," David reluctantly muttered.

"You sound familiar," Gold mused, continuing to make his way toward Killian.

"Now, what I want to know is why you published it in an obscure journal in India if it was such a breakthrough. Why not publish it in a respected American medical journal so the masses would flock to you?"

"Neuroscience New Delhi is a respected journal."

"Get a hooker, volunteer part time as a Captain Hook entertainer," David muttered, "Anything but this."

"I'm sure it is," Killian conceded with a nod, "But it's also the perfect place to publish a half baked 'miracle breakthrough' because you can just bribe anyone there. Isn't that right, Gold?" Killian could see David facepalm beside him but he couldn't back out now, not when the imp was so close to getting what he deserved.

"I know I know you," Gold muttered, shrewd eyes locked on Killian and his ridiculous disguise.

"Ah, that you do, crocodile."

"The name's Robert," Gold responded, coming to a stop directly beside Killian.

"My apologizes, it's something to do with your face. Or perhaps your penance for taking people's left hands."

He saw the moment realization dawned for Gold, dark eyes flashing with unrestrained hatred as he leaned heavily on his cane.

"Jones."

"In the flesh - well, mostly in the flesh," Killian replied cheekily, waving his prosthetic hand around.

"I see you haven't changed since your medical school days, still trying to goad bigger fish than you."

"And you're still an egotistical demon who will try to murder someone to further his own career."

There were a few gasps around them, and Killian took pleasure in knowing others would know what kind of doctor Gold _really_ was.

"Your accident was no one's fault but your own, dearie," Gold calmly replied, and it took every ounce of self control Killian had not to stand and punch the man with his one good hand. "You were the one who got behind the wheel of that car drunk."

"I was sober," Killian growled through clenched teeth. The bloody crocodile would _not_ win this! " _You_ hired someone to tamper with my car and then completely ignored your hippocratic oath by refusing to save my hand!"

Gold laughed. "And how exactly do I have the resources to pay someone to do that? I am nothing but a simple neurologist trying to help people."

"The bloody hell you are!" Killian snapped, "You used your connections to the mob to pay the authorities to look the other way, same way you're paying the pharmaceutical company to look the other way now because your drug _doesn't work!_ "

"You would like to believe that dearie because it plays right into your fantasy."

"Unlike you I'm a doctor who cares, which is why I tested it."

"Oh really?" Gold sneered, his cane tapping the ground. "What were your parameters? Where's your study?"

Bloody hell this wasn't going how he had envisioned it. Quickly throwing David a look and praying his best friend kept his mouth shut he replied, "Room 2134."

Gold scoffed. "One patient?"

" _The coma patient?!"_

Killian gave David a murderous look, one the oncologist couldn't see through the sunglasses Killian still wore.

"You really haven't changed," Gold chuckled, "You tried to take what wasn't yours in Med school and you're trying to take something of mine again. It won't work, dearie." Leaning forward Gold continued, in a whisper that only Killian and David could hear, "My wife does send her regards however, Jones, considering how thoroughly I fucked her last night. Something you could never give her she says."

Killian saw red at Gold's words and if it weren't for David's hand shooting out and holding his arm in a vice-like grip, the diagnostician would have been out of his seat and decking the grinning neurologist. Instead he was forced to struggle against David's hold as Gold walked away, grinning like the crocodile he was.


	2. Part 2

He could be accused of many things - being a narcissist, a vulgar and temperamental man, a doctor who didn't care about his patients - but the one thing no one could accuse Killian Jones of being was a quitter.

Which is why he currently found himself sat at his desk with a band around his arm and two bottles of medication in front of him. His new plan to bring down the Crocodile was perhaps a bit insane but he refused to give up on his revenge and science never moved forward (or backwards, in this case) without some idiot doing something dangerous and stupid.

He just so happen to be said idiot at the moment.

Making sure the tourniquet around his left arm was tight, Killian reached for the syringe he had pre-filled with Gold's miraculous migraine prevention medicine. This may seem like a drastic step to most people - he was certain if David knew about this the honor bound oncologist would have tried to stop it - but he _had_ to bring Gold down, one way or another. He had waited too long to let the Crocodile escape without some form of retribution for everything he had done. With his original plan for revenge falling to pieces in the lecture hall, Killian had quickly deduced the only way to prove Gold's medicine didn't work was on a live patient and since he couldn't in good conscious induce a migraine in a healthy, non-comatous person - he may bend the ethical guideline to suit his own goals but there were lines even he wouldn't cross - the only other option was himself.

Insane, truly, but he was willing to do anything to get his revenge.

Injecting Gold's medicine, he tossed the used syringe into a nearby sharps container before grabbing the bottle of nitroglycerin on his desk. Situating the bottle into his prosthetic hand and maneuvering the fake fingers to grasp it, he carefully filled a new syringe. Taking a deep breath - because if his theory was right, this was going to hurt like a son of a bitch - he injected the medication that could cause severe migraines into his vein. Sending the second used needle into the sharps container and releasing the tourniquet he flexed his arm a few times, reminding himself as the medication worked its way through his bloodstream that whatever happened after this was worth it if it brought the Crocodile down.

He looked up at the sound of his office door opening to see Swan walking in, her blonde locks now pulled into a low ponytail and her delectable figure covered by a lab coat.

"Adam had an orgasm."

 _Well he hadn't been expecting that._ "What? While he was-"

Killian's sentence was cut off as a blinding flash of pain shot through his head and pulsed outward, leaving the sensation that a thousand tiny Gnomes were stabbing him in the brain all at once. His breath caught at the sudden pain and his right hand came up to slam back down on his desk with enough force to rattle every loose object on its surface, causing even Swan to jump in surprise.

"What's wrong?" she asked, moving toward his desk tentatively. Through the pain that was now pounding in time with his heartbeat he could have sworn there was genuine concern in her voice.

"I'm having a migraine," he said tightly, right hand clenching as the pain began to roll forward from the back of his skull. Christ he had forgotten just how bloody painful these things could be.

Swan came to stand directly in front of his desk. "Are you okay?"

Killian chuckled. "Aye, means I was right." Groaning as a strong burst of pain radiated from the base of his skull to his forehead, Killian leaned back in his desk chair, right hand coming up to rub feebly at his temple. He could hear Swan moving through the increased pounding in his head and he'd know that huff of disdain anywhere.

"Please tell me you didn't inject yourself with nitroglycerin to induce a migraine!"

"Perhaps…."

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

Killian chanced opening his eyes, ignoring the fresh flash of pain the dim lights caused to let his gaze settle on his female fellow. She was moving toward the phone on his desk, the bottle of nitroglycerin in one hand and a concerned but irritated scowl on her face. Quickly punching in a series of numbers, the sound making Killian want to throw the damn phone through the glass wall of his office, she only had to wait a couple of seconds before whoever she called picked up.

"Merlin, I need a bottle of verapamil and sumatriptan in Jones' office ASAP… Nothing, he just gave himself a migraine… No, a literal one…. I don't care what you're doing, just get me the damn medication!"

Despite her barked order she set the phone back in its cradle gently before turning her attention to him.

"Care to explain why you gave yourself a migraine in the middle of a case?"

Killian closed his eyes as the pain intensified even more, his head falling back against the chair until his face was parallel with the ceiling. "Must you ask me questions at a time like this, Swan?" he grumbled. He needed Swan's judgemental lecture as much as he needed one from Dave.

"At a time like- Jones, we're in the middle of a case!" she whisper-hissed, and he supposed he should be thankful that despite being obviously pissed at his actions she was considerate enough of his current predicament not to talk at full volume.

"I'm aware we're in the middle of a case," he muttered without opening his eyes. "But what I do in my free time is no one's concern but my own."

"Unless it affects the patient we are currently trying to save."

"It won't."

He heard her huff in annoyance as she moved and seconds later he jumped as he felt soft fingers on either side of his head. Forcing his eyes open, his vision was filled with Swan's face as she looked down at him from her new position behind his chair. She was close enough for him to make out a random freckle or two along her cheeks and the scent of vanilla and cinnamon poured over him. Killian made a mental note to have her do some of the breaking and entering he normally made Robin do if she could move that silently.

"What are you doing?" he asked, tone weary as her soft fingers begin to add pressure to his throbbing temples.

One blonde eyebrow quirked in amusement. "What does it look like I'm doing, Jones?"

"It would appear that you are attempting to massage my temples to alleviate a migraine."

"Nice deduction skills there."

"But why?"

He felt her fingers still against his temples instantly, and she blinked down at him in surprise.

"Because you're in pain. I can stop-"

"No," he responded quickly, reaching up with his good hand to stop her retreating fingers. "It's- it's fine, Swan."

He watched her swallow thickly, regarding him with a contemplative look before her soft fingers went back to his temples. Looking up at her he could see the tension in her shoulders and brow, could feel it crackling through the air between them to settle in his bones. His response to her moving away had been an instant reaction, one that touched on the subject Dave had brought up that morning in the coma patient's room and he was hit with the sudden urge to lighten the mood.

"You know, Swan, there's another body part of mine you can massage with your hands-"

The hard jab to both his temples wasn't unexpected in the least, even if it did make him wince and mutter a curse under his breath. The eye roll she gave him told him the physical retaliation was more out of jest than any real irritation with his blatant innuendo.

"Hilarious, Jones. I'm only doing this until Merlin gets here with the medication, so keep your other body parts to yourself."

He hummed in acknowledgement, eyes falling shut again as her fingers continued to make small circles, maintaining their pressure. It wasn't going to get rid of the migraine entirely but any relief, however small, was welcome at the moment even if he had done this to himself. The easy banter between them was familiar ground, one that had instantly broken the tension surrounding them. That had been happening more and more he realised - tense moments between them where that once stark line between them began to blur, when the actions of one of them forced an emotion forward in the other that they weren't ready to confront. It had been like that since he found her at the Christmas party, offering none of his usual quips and snide remarks as he let her cry on his shoulder. He had seen her get emotional over patients before but the tears that had stained her cheeks that night were for herself and it had been the first crack he had seen in her heavily fortified walls.

"So why did you give yourself a migraine?"

Her softly asked question brought him out of his thoughts and he contemplated responding with another sexual jab but found himself unable to muster the energy to do so - he blamed the pounding in his head.

"You wouldn't understand," he mumbled instead. There was a slight pause before she spoke, again quietly so as not to ascerbate his condition.

"Try me."

He sighed deeply - what the hell, she was trying to help him despite his idiotic choices. "Revenge."

"Against Doctor Gold?"

He could imagine her brow furrowing in confusion as she asked the question. "That would be the one. Wait, how do you know him?"

He sensed her shrug. "I don't, aside from his reputation as being one of the top neurologist in the country. Word has spread of you storming out of his lecture looking like you wanted to punch someone though, and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to put that and your sudden need to become a guinea pig together to form a logical conclusion."

 _Perceptive._ "I should give you a gold star, Swan." He didn't have to be looking at her to know she had rolled her eyes.

"Because that's why I went to med school, to receive gold stars." There was a pause and then- "Why do you want revenge on him?"

A phantom pain pulsed from his missing left hand and his jaw twitched at the physical reminder.

"Because he took something from me."

She remained silent and he didn't elaborate, putting his energy into trying not to physically whimper at the pain currently radiating through his skull. This was definitely not his brightest idea to get revenge, a fact that was reinforced when his stomach churned and he felt like he was going to vomit, a well known migraine symptom. Stalking Gold and trying to ruin him publicly had been a less painful route to go. He should have let Dave talk him out of this one. _Where the bloody hell was Merlin…._

"Giving yourself a migraine seems a bit extreme to get revenge against someone."

Swallowing against the urge to throw up he muttered, "Desperate times call for desperate measures, Swan. I told you you wouldn't understand."

Her fingers ceased their movement against his temples. "Perhaps I would."

Her whispered words caused him to open his eyes, blinking against his slightly blurred vision until she came into focus. Her face was devoid of mirth as she looked down at him, green eyes bright with understanding and he was suddenly struck with the feeling that he was seeing past every wall she had placed around her and before him was a scared little girl. The pain he saw in her eyes spoke to his own damaged soul and the need to discover who she really was welled within him for the hundredth time in less than four months, momentarily over powering the pain he felt.

Before he could find his voice to ask how she could possibly understand his office door opened, Merlin and Robin's voices drifting in and the moment was broken. He saw her walls come back up in the blink of an eye and she was moving away from him to intercept the thief and sorcerer before he could even take his next breath. He knew the look on her face, had seen it staring back at him in the mirror countless times since his accident - the look of someone running from a past pain that refused to stay in the past. As his fellows quietly conversed mere feet away he closed his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips despite the pain still throbbing through his head.

Perhaps this hadn't been his most idiotic plan after all.

* * *

Closing the blinds in the devernital room, Emma wondered if she had hit her head at some point in the day without realising it.

She had no idea what had possessed her mere minutes ago to rub Jones' temples, let alone bare her soul for that brief second. Clearly she had lost her mind. Trying to lessen his pain could easily be explained - she was a doctor after all and it was her duty to help those in need, even when said person was her pain in the ass boss. It had been instinct that moved her to stand behind him and massage his temples, the same one that had propelled her to go to medical school when the cards were stacked against her. What couldn't be explained was why she had felt the need to let him know she did understand where he was coming from. She had spent the last eleven years guarding herself, swearing that she would never again let anyone see the pain that ate away at her and within the span of a few minutes she had done just that.

And for what? To give Jones a moment of compassion?

Emma sighed. Although she was berating herself for the momentary slip in her defenses and didn't agree with his methods - no sane person, especially a doctor, would willingly gave themselves a migraine - she understood why he had done it. After Neal had left her to take the fall for his crime she had searched long and hard for him, hell bent on making him pay for what he had done to her. She had eventually found him and gathered enough evidence of his current crime to ensure he spent a lengthy time in jail but before she could the universe had stepped in and evened the score - Neal had been arrested on an unrelated charge and sent to jail for a very long time. With hindsight she knew if she had went through with getting her revenge that it wouldn't magically erase the emotional scars he had inflicted upon her but any karma, even if dished out by the universe, gave her what she needed to move on.

But it was clear Jones had yet to come to that discovery on his own.

Turning from the blinds she watched the man in question sink to the floor of the devernital room, muttering about how he had had hangovers worse than this as he waved Robin and Merlin away. He hadn't explicitly said that Gold was the reason for his lost hand but it wasn't hard to put two and two together. In her entire year working for him he had never once told them how he lost his hand and it was a subject even she couldn't pull from David, the oncologist becoming protective of his idiotic best friend if it was mentioned. But she couldn't imagine what it was like to have a physical reminder of the pain someone had caused and she told herself that was why she had given him that brief glimpse of her unguarded self, that it had nothing to do with the dynamic shift between them that been occurring since the night of the Christmas party…

"Differential diagnosis for ejaculation," came Jones' strained voice from the floor. Moving toward the table she could see that he was stretched out beneath the glass table, his head resting on a large textbook and his eyes closed. When none of them responded he opened one blue eye. "Don't make me say that again."

"We're not stalling," Merlin replied honestly as he sat down, "We just don't know."

"Then guess," came the slightly irritable response from the floor.

"Don't get snappy with us simply because you tried to halt a new migraine prevention medication." Needing space from him after opening herself up a little too much, she had let Merlin administer the medication to their insane boss and walked into the other room to do a quick google search of Robert Gold. Even she had to admit the man's science seemed off on the few articles she could find.

His one blue eye narrowed at her. "I'm pretty sure the Gnomes that are currently trying to dig a tunnel in my head is evidence that it doesn't work, Swan."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Could pain medication cause an orgasm?"

"I wish," Jones snorted, instantly groaning.

"Maybe pain caused the orgasm." At his co-workers incredulous looks Robin continued, "You get a tattoo and the brain releases endorphins which create pleasure."

"Most people don't orgasm from a needle prick," Emma dead panned.

Jones sighed. "Actually, Robin has a point. The brain is like a huge train station. If the switches get-" he broke off with a gasp, eyes squeezing tighter. " _Bloody hell_ … Oh, great sorcerer, you're the neurologist - talk for me."

"If sensory information got misinterpreted by the medial forebrain bundle, it's possible for bad to feel good and good to feel bad," Merlin explained.

"Lucky kid," Jones grumbled. "Let's not fix him until the burns heal."

Robin leaned forward on his arms, shooting Jones an apologetic look when the table groaned loudly and his boss gave him a one-eyed death glare. "So what attacks the medial forebrain bundle?"

"Infectious neuropathies, vasculitic neuropathies, Crab's disease, metachromatic leukodystrophy."

"All very bad things," Jones mumbled, both eyes closed again. "No way to look for any of them in his condition."

Emma rested her hands on the table, ignoring the narrowed death glare Jones shot her at the table groaning loudly. "You listed brain infections but what if it's just a regular old infection festering in the burned skin?"

Merlin shook his head. "Pus on his arm isn't causing problems in the forebrain."

"He's on 20 different medications to manage his pain and his heart, how often he urinates," Emma shot back. "The brain is stressed. An infection elsewhere could put it over the edge."

"So we wait for his burns to heal to see if you're right?" Merlin asked incredulously.

"Bugs."

All three of them looked down at the dark haired doctor on the floor. "Are you seeing things now?" Robin asked in concern.

"No, you idiot," Jones grumbled. "Napoleon's Surgeon in Chief, Dominic Larrey, cleaned a lot of battle wounds with bugs. Use them to clean the kid's wounds and kill any bacteria that may be lingering there."

Shrugging - it wasn't the most insane idea he had ever come up with - Emma looked to her co-workers. "You guys go ahead and get started on it, I've got to talk to someone."

As Robin and Merlin stood to leave Jones gingerly lifted his head from the textbook pillow. "Swan, where are you going?"

"Just to talk to someone."

"You better not be going to talk to who I think you are…"

"Sorry, Jones."

"Swan, don't you dare go to David. Swan…"

Emma smirked as she left the differential room. While sympathetic to his reasons, she couldn't pass up the opportunity to make Jones' life a little complicated. The oncologist was going to have a _field day_ with this.

* * *

An hour later Killian was sat at his desk, head resting on the cool metal surface and seriously contemplating putting himself in a medically induced coma just so he didn't have to endure the pain anymore. The pounding in his head had eased off considerably since Merlin had given him a dose of verapamil and sumatriptan but there was still a sporadic stabbing pain, along with a dull ache behind both his eyes. At least his stomach had finally settled down somewhat. He just needed to get rid of the migraine completely to jump start the next phase in his revenge plan…

The loud clanging of the blinds covering the front window of his office sent a fresh stabbing pain through his head and he raised his head to lay into whichever one of his fellows was causing the noise, even if it was the intriguing Swan, and promptly groaned. It was none other than David Nolan, standing with his arms crossed and an exasperated but irritated look on his face.

"Did you seriously give yourself a migraine?" his best friend asked, not bothering to lower his voice to a more gentle volume for his friend's current predicament.

"Bugger off, Dave. I have my reasons," Killian muttered, sitting up in his chair and feebly rubbing his right temple.

"You're insane, that's your reason."

"Be that as it may," Killian began, "My insanity proved the Crocodile's medication is bogus. Now, if you'll kindly leave me be, I'd like to toast to my long awaited revenge with my favorite choice of drink."

"Rum? Bad idea," David said, raising his voice deliberately so he was almost shouting. Killian winced against the sound as he reached for his Disney Captain Hook mug but David, not hindered by the pain of a migraine, moved faster and scooped the mug up before Killian could reach it. "You're better off with water."

"I prefer rum and stop shouting, it'll raise your blood pressure and Mary Margaret will throttle me."

"I'm not shouting," David responded, while in fact shouting. "But if you really want me to make some noise I can always drop your mug…."

Killian glared at his best friend. "Break my mug and you'll bloody need someone to give you a prostate exam, mate."

David smirked at the diagnostician's sentimentally over the mug - it had been a gift from Mary Margaret years ago, one of the few personal things Killian was protective over - and turned without a word to head into the conference room.

"Fool-proof plan, by the way," came the oncologist's voice from the other room as Killian let his head drop into his good hand. "Either his meds work and you'd be in psychic pain because von Evil is going to be rich or they wouldn't, and you got to be in agony all day." He could hear David pouring what he assumed was water and then a slight pause before a loud clang sounded, causing him to grimace. The bastard had deliberately dumped what sounded like every utensil in the kitchen area into the bloody sink.

"Perfect lose-lose situation. Very you, Jones."

Killian huffed. "I had to prove-"

"You proved nothing," David cut him off, reentering Killian's office and setting the Captain Hook mug down on his desk. Killian raised an eyebrow, ignoring the fresh stabbing pain behind his eyes at the movement.

"Right, because this isn't a migraine," he drawled.

David rolled his eyes. "Yes. Dear New England Journal of Medicine, I took this guy's drug and still got a headache, thus scientifically proving that my archenemy is an idiot." Shaking his head he added, "You just wanted the pain."

"Because I enjoy physical pain _so_ much," Killian sassed, picking his mug up and taking a long drink of the fresh water. "The meds are supposed to prevent migraines and they didn't."

"Killian, you get distracted by pain. It leaves less room for the things you don't want to think about like Disney casting Huge Jackman in the Hook remake or the price of gas or… ohhh, I don't know, the fact that you genuinely care for Emma."

"I don't care for Swan."

David gave him a knowing look. "Could have fooled me."

Killian scowled, wincing at the fresh pain that stabbed through his skull. "She's a fellow and nothing more, Dave. Although I wouldn't say no to bedding the Lady Swan and putting that mouth of hers to good use-"

He was expecting the punch that followed his words. He didn't want to have this conversation on a normal day, let alone when he was dealing with a migraine and he knew the fastest way to shut David up and get him out of his office was to goad the protective instinct his best friend had toward Swan - even if it did end with a well placed punch to his jaw.

"You're an ass, you know that?" David snapped, flexing his hand. "How do you expect this to work, Killian? You email the people in charge with _one_ instance of Gold's medication not working and you expect them to shut his trial down? What he and Milah did was abhorrent but this…." The oncologist shook his head. "This is idiotic, even for you. You aren't going to get his trial stopped this way and honestly, I don't think you even care about that anymore. This is all just a game to you, to see how far you can push those around you and I think you won't like the answer you find."

Blinking against the stars dancing in front of his eyes and the fresh wave of pain shooting through his head, he watched David storm out of his office, making sure to clang the blinds and shut the door as loudly as humanly possible.

Perhaps this had been his worst idea to date.

* * *

Walking down the hallway of Storybrooke General, Emma shifted the patient chart and latest lab results to her left arm and blew an errant strand of blonde hair out of her face that had escaped her hastily tied ponytail.

After finding David outside with a patient and informing him of Jones' stunt she had went to help Robin and Merlin with their own patient. Jones' maggot idea had helped with the kid's burns through the night but his brain waves had continued to be all over the map, indicating that the problem was an underlying condition not associated with his accident. After waking Jones who they had found asleep on his office floor with a distinctive bruise starting to color his jaw, the diagnostician had suggested a lumbar puncture, a procedure Merlin had vehemently been against since the only area on the patient to do one in was at the C2 and C3 area which posed a higher risk of paralysis than a normal lumbar puncture. The parents had eventually consisted despite the risks and although Adam had come dangerously close to stroking during the procedure, they had managed to get a sample.

The results had showed however that there was no infection or MS and Jones, still on the belief that it had to be MS, had once again stepped over the ethical line most doctors avoided by fifty feet and woken the patient up to ask twenty questions. She had heard his screams from down the hallway but by the time she reached the burn unit Jones was walking out, bruised jaw set in determination. He had waved her off when she had asked where he was going, muttering that the kid's screams had given him a headache so he was taking an aspirin and wanted everyone in his office.

That had been two hours ago and with no sign of Jones and the kid inching closer to death, she had stormed out of his office on a hunt for the diagnostician. One of the nurses on the fifth floor had commented about seeing him go into the locker room so that was where she was headed, trying and failing to keep her temper in check. Their patient was on death's door and they were no closer to finding out what was wrong with him and Jones had just disappeared without a word.

If he was working on his revenge plot instead of helping their patient she was going to throttle him, migraine or not.

Pushing open the door to the men's locker room she had an entire lecture about how the patient's health came before his need to see someone pay on the tip of her tongue but it evaporated in an instant as her eyes landed on the man in question.

_Fuck._

Jones was sat on a bench that lined one side of the locker room, back against the wall with his head tilted and looking at the floor in front of him, wearing nothing but a towel around his hips. In the entire year she had been working for him she had never seen him with so much as his dress shirt untucked so the current unobstructed view of his form had her frozen in the doorway and eyes unashamedly taking him in. His body was lean and fit with broad shoulders and a muscled torso, just enough to hint that he kept fit without going over into the too-muscled territory most men preferred. He hadn't bothered to dry off in the slightest, dark hair plastered to his forehead and drops of water running down the curves of his muscles. The chest hair that was always on display with his unbuttoned shirts covered his chest and tapered down his firm stomach to disappear into the towel around his waist, causing Emma to blush when she thought of just _where_ that trail of hair lead to.

She should _not_ be ogling her boss when a patient's life was on the life - or ever - no matter how hot he was in nothing but a towel and dripping wet. Pushing her hormones to the side she continued into the locker room until she was standing a few feet from him, irritation quickly over riding any lasting hormones when he didn't acknowledge her presence with even a sexual innuendo.

"Jones, what the hell are you doing? We've been waiting on you for two hours!" She didn't bother to keep her voice low despite his lingering migraine. She watched him blink and then slowly look up at her, blue eyes glassy.

"I'm hallucinating."

Her eyes widened and the irritation she had felt seconds before melted as concern shot through her. Hurriedly putting her stuff down on the bench next to him she grabbed her ophthalmoscope.

"Hallucinations with migraines are pretty uncommon," she stated, looking at his eyes. Seeing that his pupils were dilated she lowered the scope and braced her hands on her bent knees. "What did you see?"

"I saw music," came his slowed response, eyes moving to her face. A lopsided grin pulled at his lips. "Bloody hell you are gorgeous."

Emma narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you drunk?"

"Nope," he replied cheerily. "Haven't touched a drop of rum since I gave meself a migraine."

"If you aren't drunk sensory deception makes no sense. Do you still have a migraine?"

His brows furrowed. "What makes you think I'm drunk?"

"Other than the fact that your pupils are so wide that a semi-truck could go through them? Your speech is slowed and you just told me I'm gorgeous."

"Well, you are."

"I'm what?"

"Gorgeous."

Emma scoffed. "Yeah, you're drunk."

"I am not!" he replied indignantly. She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever you say, Jones. I'll ask you again - do you still have a migraine?"

He shook his head, stretching his muscled body that Emma in no way let her eyes drop down to. "Nope. Migraine free thanks to some help."

Her eyes jerked up from the sight of his taut stomach and narrowed at him. "You said you hadn't had any rum."

"I haven't," he replied, letting his body fall lax again with a dopey smile on his face. "The help came in the form of a pill."

Anger swept through Emma and she quickly rose to her full height, arms crossing over her chest. "You took something."

"Aye."

"Dammit Jones, the kid's fighting for his life and you decide to pop a pill?!"

"Aye," he responded, eyes closing as his head fell to the wall behind him. "Had to have me head on straight to come up with a new revenge plan. Dave was right, one case of the Crocodile's medicine not working isn't enough. I need to think bigger."

Emma's hands clenched. "Is that all you care about? Your stupid fucking vendetta with this Gold guy? A patient's life is at risk, Jones!"

With his eyes still closed Killian waved his arm to cut her off and Emma's breath hitched - he hadn't used his right arm but his left which was missing the brace and prosthetic hand that she had never seen him without. Her anger toward him dulled as she took in his blunted wrist, how silver and jagged looking scars crawled from where his wrist ended to halfway up his forearm and the red indentions that marked where the brace had bitten into his skin. It wasn't her first time seeing an amputation - she was a doctor, after all - but there was something about seeing _his_ for the first time that stirred something within her. It wasn't pity or disgust but anger, a sudden and visceral need to see the person responsible for causing him the injury to pay.

It both shocked and frightened her but before she could look inward to the core of why she felt so strongly about his old wound, he was speaking again in that slowed and happily mellow voice.

"What else is there to care about, Swan? I have nothing else."

"You have your patients," she whispered, fingers twitching to move the damp hair still falling across his forehead. "You have David, Belle even though she'd rather eat her entire library than admit it and you have-" she caught herself from saying _me_ and cleared her throat. "And you have the team."

With his head still propped against the wall Killian opened his eyes, the vivid blue of them staring at her as if he could read her very soul despite his obviously drugged state. "Patients come and go, lass," he began calmly, and she had the random thought that his voice would be soothing in this moment if she didn't sense one of his mile-long deprecation rambles coming on. "There's another one to warm the bed as soon as the other leaves, a revolving door of people who want help but still lie to save their dignity and their loved one's feelings even when the truth could save them. They say they want a doctor who cares but really they just want a mind reader who will pop them a few pills and let them continue their lies. David is a noble man but keeps coming back to our friendship because he feels like he can one day fix everything that is wrong with me. It's not because he cares - he simply can't let a wounded and damaged animal limp through the world without assistance, goes against his very nature."

He chuckled. "I'm nothing more than an asset to this hospital and Belle. I bring in the unique cases, give the hospital and its shareholders a solid reputation. If I were to crook tomorrow she'd only be worried about the loss to the hospital's bank account. And as for the team... I'm just the narcissist, pain in the ass boss who always stays one step away from getting your medical licenses revoked. All of you stay because you need the experience and the clout having my name as a former boss will bring you later in your careers."

Emma stared slack jawed at the diagnostician. She knew he was prone to silent self loathing - why else would he constantly seek comfort at the bottom of a rum bottle? - and that he wasn't ignorant of how most viewed him and his antics but this… this was much worse than self loathing. Jones genuinely believed there was nothing else for him in the world but his revenge, that those surrounding him only tolerated him for a myriad of reasons and not one of them was because they liked him. She was the first to admit that he grated on her nerves and was the reason she had a glass (or three) of wine almost every night after work but she didn't _hate_ him. Yes, his methods of doctoring were insane and far into left field but beneath the rum and sassy, sometimes vulgar remarks was an intriguing man.

She knew from her own digging into his past that he pulled himself out of a horrible childhood to become a renowned diagnostician who didn't let the loss of his left hand stop him from saving lives. Because he may break the rules - hell, probably even a few laws along the way - and push the ethical guideline to its limit but she knew no other doctor who fought tooth and nail to ensure his patients walked out of the hospital either cured or with an answer to what was wrong with them. It was why she argued with him on an insane plan but was the first to back his play with Belle.

What had Gold done to him to make him doubt his own self worth as a human so strongly?

"None of that's true and you know it," she stated softly, willing him to see through the acid induced fog to how wrong he was.

Killian shrugged. "There are only three truths in life that I know, Swan: everyone lies, everyone is out for their own wants, and everyone leaves eventually. Three facts of life that never change because people never change."

Emma clenched her jaw as anger rose within her. "We'll see about that," she muttered, moving to gather the patient chart and lab results. Without looking back at her half dressed and tripping boss she left the locker room, almost running right into Robin and Merlin. The two men looked from her to where she had just exited, confusion pulling at their brows.

"Did... you find Jones?" Robin asked, tentatively.

"Yeah, he's in the locker room."

Merlin frowned. "Is he okay?"

"Perfectly fine, he's high. Here," she said, shoving the chart and lab results into Robin's arms. "Get him something to bring him down so he can figure out what's wrong with the patient."

"Where are you going?" Merlin inquired as she pushed past her co-workers.

"I've got to prove a man wrong," she muttered, not glancing back as she walked away from them.

* * *

Twenty-four hours later Killian sat at his desk, sipping from his Captain Hook coffee mug and reading over the newest patient file as he waited for his fellows to arrive. They had wrapped up the burn kid's case the previous afternoon after Robin and Merlin had given him a concoction of antidepressants to bring him down from his acid high without the inevitable comedown so he could be clear minded. He had thought the kid might be depressed and antidepressants had caused the seizures but the parents had insisted he wasn't and would have told them - clearly they had forgotten what it was like to be a teenager. In the end the kid really hadn't been depressed but had been trying to quit smoking and since his parents were unaware of his filthy habit, had been taking no-smoking meds loaded with crappy antidepressants he had probably gotten on the down-low.

Everybody lies, after all.

He hadn't been so focused on almost getting slapped with a malpractice suit that he hadn't noticed Swan's odd behavior though. He had brushed off the fact that it was Robin and Merlin who had brought him down from the high and not his blonde fellow as her being angry at his decision to drop acid in the middle of a case. It was also the reason he didn't question her absence during their first differential after he stopped seeing music. He just assumed she was pissed and working behind the scenes to help the patient, as far away from him as she could get. But she had been there for the second differential - physically at least. The entire time he and his other two fellows were talking about how seizure disorders don't cause orgasms she had been sat at the desk in the conference room, furiously typing away on her laptop. She had claimed she was catching up on his backlogged case notes but he had quickly noted not one of their former case files had been on the desk and she never typed case notes almost angrily, no matter how much she despised doing something that he should have done months ago.

Twelve hours later he still had no clue as to where she had been after leaving him in the locker room or what she had been truly doing on her laptop later that day. He must have said something in their conversation to truly anger her and he was cursing the fog of being high for not remembering exactly what they had talked about. He could remember her standing in front of him and there being some banter about how he was high and not drunk but the rest was just a blur, snatches of her face amidst the technicolor that had become his vision. Dropping acid had perhaps not been the wisest decision he had ever made but it had gotten rid of his self-induced migraine. Not that giving himself one had helped in bringing the Crocodile down...

"Hey, did you drop acid?"

Looking up from the new patient file he had been trying to read he saw Belle striding into his office, her trademark high heels just peeking out from beneath her dark dress pants. Killian blinked innocently.

"Why would I do that?"

Belle sighed deeply as she crossed her arms. "To annoy me or maybe because you're miserable, or… because you… want to self-destruct. Pick one, Jones."

Killian hummed thoughtfully as he took a sip of his rum laced coffee. "How about because LSD acts on serotonin receptors in the brain which can stop a migraine in its tracks?" He grinned when Belle threw him an annoyed look. "I'm just saying that's also a possibility, love. How did you know about it?"

It was at that moment that Swan walked into his office from the conference room and he sighed dramatically. "Did you have to tell mommy I took acid, Swan?"

His blonde fellow quirked an eyebrow in his direction before shrugging her shoulders. "Wasn't me."

 _Well that was interesting._ Swan was usually always the first to tattle when he had done something reckless. "You told Dave though, right? I'm sure he ran straight to leggy Belle here with that news."

Emma shook her head, her blonde ponytail swishing with the movement. "Didn't tell David either."

Killian raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I find that hard to believe-"

"Oh, quit with the twenty questions, Jones," Belle admonished, moving even closer to his desk. "Robin informed me of your little stunt. He was worried but I told him that LSD lasts up to twelve hours so if you were functional he must be wrong."

"Well, either that _or_ he and Merlin gave me a whole bunch of antidepressants which short-circuited the LSD." At the darkening of Belle's face he added, "I'm just saying that would also explain it."

Before Belle could say another word his office door flew open as none other than Gold burst in, his face a mask of fury.

"You!" the neurologist snarled, leaning heavily on his cane as he came to stand in the middle of the room, free hand pointed at Killian. "You ruined my clinical trials and the pharmaceutical company is shutting me down!"

Killian stared dumbfounded at his long term nemesis. "You're kidding. Really?"

"How could that surprise you?" Gold snapped. "You sent them an email with bogus evidence showing you had been running a six month trial and your findings that my medication doesn't prevent migraines!"

Belle turned from the almost purpled faced neurologist to give Killian an incredulous look. "You did what, Jones?!"

Killian held up his hands, both normal and prosthetic. "While I'm gleeful enough to do an Irish jig that your shame of a medication is getting pulled - because it in fact _doesn't_ work - it wasn't me."

Gold huffed in annoyance. "Who else has an axe to grind with me, dearie?"

"I'm sure there is a long list of people you've screwed over in your cowardice life, Crocodile," Killian stated, bringing his hands down to rest atop his desk, "And while I may be at the forefront of that list, I didn't do this. Shame that I didn't, really. I should send a bottle of rum to whoever did though."

Gold growled and Killian mentally took stock of the gun he kept in his lower desk drawer in case the old man got violent and put Belle or Swan in harm's way. He'd been on the receiving end of Gold's war path before and he refused to let the Crocodile harm the two women in any way.

"So what's next, Jones? Are you going to follow me my entire career, finding ways to undermine everything I do?"

Killian leaned back in his chair, a calm expression on his face. "Derailing your bogus medication doesn't even begin to even the field after what you did to me," he growled softly, waving his prosthetic at the other man, "But I'll take the win for what it is for now."

Gold continued to glare at him for a long second before pointing his finger at the diagnostician again. "This isn't over, dearie. You're going to pay for this! Maybe not today or next week but I promise, I'm coming for you!"

Turning to leave he stopped and threw a murderous look at Belle. "And thank you for setting me up, dearie. Your shareholders will be hearing about this!"

The fuming neurologist limped out of the office and Belle gave Killian a disbelieving look before following him out as quickly as her towering heels would let her. Silence enveloped the room at their departure as Killian stared at the open case file in front of him. This was a turn of events he hadn't been expecting. He had all but given up on getting Gold's trial stopped, already working on another plan for his revenge against the man who had taken his left hand and yet someone had already delivered the blow to the Crocodile. But who? It wouldn't be Dave. The man's moral compass wouldn't allow him to mess with another doctor's career, even for retribution for his best friend. Belle wouldn't have done it because she was a stickler for the rules and had shareholders to answer to if there was any backlash. Maybe it wasn't anyone he knew personally. Gold was an asshole and had made plenty of enemies over the years aside from Killian - maybe one of them had gotten wind of his trials and had decided to tank them….

"You okay?"

He looked up to see Swan still standing there, head tilted as if she had been studying him and it took him a minute to realise it was the first time she had directly talked to him without a prompt since their conversation in the locker room the previous day.

"Aye, fine," he replied, still somewhat distracted by the recent turn of events. Closing the patient file he held it out to her. "Find out what's taking the Sorcerer and the thief of Sherwood so damn long to get here. We've got another case."

She took the file wordlessly, heading toward the door that lead into the hallway and it spoke to how truly distracted he was that he only spared the briefest glance at her ass. Instead, he opened the top right drawer of his desk and started rummaging for a marker. The one he had used on the last case had ran dry….

"You know what I didn't know?"

"What?" he asked distractedly, pausing in his search for a new marker to look up. Swan was standing by his office door, tapping the new patient file with her right thumb and smirking at him.

"I didn't know that people who oversee clinical trials have their emails on the main website for just anyone to find, or that they actually read them. I mean, the delete button is so conveniently located…."

It took a second for her words to register with him and when they did, he found himself unable to keep his jaw from dropping.

"You… you were the one who sent the email?" At her nod he leaned back in his chair. "Why?"

Swan shrugged. "His medication clearly didn't work and he would have harmed millions of potential patients all while padding his pocket. It's a concept I've never liked."

Killian continued to stare at her in awe before something Gold had said clicked in his head. "Wait… he said there was evidence of a six month trial. How did you pull that off?"

"Quite brilliantly, actually," Swan replied with a grin. "I just used any patients who had died here at the hospital and listed them as having been in the trial. The people in charge aren't going to dig to find they are all really cadavers, all they care about is the relevant data to the medication."

Dark eyebrows shot nearly to his hairline. "Emma Swan falsified medical records to stick it to a greedy doctor?"

She gave him a knowing look. "Don't tell me you've never done it before, Jones."

"I have, but that's me. It's very… uncharacteristic of you, lass."

She shrugged again. "Like I said, I don't like doctors like him. They give the rest of us a bad name."

"And that's the only reason you did it?"

He didn't know what he expected her answer to be but the softening of her eyes as she looked at him hadn't been it.

"I know what it's like to be hurt by someone, to need to see them pay for the pain they caused you," she answered softly and for a brief moment he once again saw the orphan she kept hidden behind those sky high walls. "Revenge won't take away the pain but I won't lie, it fucking soothes the soul to some degree."

Killian nodded. "And your own revenge?"

"The universe took care of it for me before I could see it through. We can't always get what we want but sometimes… sometimes we can in a small way."

Knowing he was pushing his luck but unable not to, he asked, "Who hurt you, Swan?"

He watched her emerald eyes go far away as she remembered the person and for a split second in time he saw the full weight of the pain she kept hidden, how deep it ran to her very soul. But just as quickly as he glanced it her walls rose back up, her metaphorical armor dropping to her shoulders and she smiled at him softly.

"Story for another time."

He nodded in understanding. It was already more than she had ever shown him before and as someone with his own scars and walls, he understood that need to not reveal everything. He contemplated giving her a sexual innuendo to end the conversation, to lighten the mood but he once again found himself unable to. Instead, he simply nodded and murmured his thanks for what she had done. Robin and Merlin entered the conference room at that moment, loudly talking about some show they both liked and Swan moved to join them.

"Oh, and Jones?"

He looked up from where his eyes had fallen to his desk to see her looking over her shoulder at him, a smirk on those delicate pink lips.

"I drink wine, not rum."

He grinned as she walked into the conference room. Well he had said he should buy a bottle for the person who brought Gold's clinical trials to a halt, and he was a man of his word. Perhaps he could offer her a night cap at his place to show his thanks….

"JONES!"

Killian smirked at the familiar and angry voice that echoed down the hospital hallway - looked like Dave finally found his movie posters.


End file.
